Tempting Gray - Untouchables 02

by T. A. Grey

  “I don’t know what you mean.” And she just leaned her neck a little more to the right so he could play easier with her neck. She almost laughed. Look at her, not so long ago the idea of sharing her blood with a vampire had disgusted her. Now? She wanted him to take from her. She wanted to feed him. For it to be only her who did it.

  “You drive me crazy. I should be mourning, not touching you.”

  The blood froze in her veins. He noticed and pulled back, frowning. “What?”

  It was hard to speak over the baseball-sized lump in her throat. When she finally did, her voice was a croak. “You’re right. You shouldn’t be touching me.”

  His eyes flew open. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He reached for her but she pulled away.

  “That’s all right. I understand. Really, I do.”

  Leave now before you make a fool of yourself and start crying.

  He cursed and dragged a hand through his hair disheveling it. “I’m sorry. Fuck. Come to my room tonight and let me try to fix this mess.”

  “You’re always wanting to fix things. While admirable, not everything can be fixed.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he said bitterly.

  She stiffened. “You’re right, of course.” He had his dead bruid as proof of that.

  He looked away, his jaw grinding like he was chewing tobacco. “You won’t come, will you?”

  “No.”

  Nodding, he left the kitchen without a word. Appetite gone, she tossed her leftover food into the garbage.

  CHAPTER 32

  Arabella glared at her ceiling.

  To go to Grayson’s room or not to go. That was the question. And she had no clue what the correct answer was.

  If her heart answered, it’d say yes, but her head on the other hand still warred with indecision.

  A brilliant idea hit her and she dashed for her phone on the dresser and called up Sissy.

  She answered with about as much excitement as Arabella had expected. “Hey, girl! What’s up? Where have you been? Everyone in the pack’s been talking about what went down at Donato’s underground casino. Shit is getting real. I’ve been scared for you, baby girl. How is everything?”

  “Awful,” Arabella said, the first thing to come to mind.

  Sissy sighed. “Tell momma Sissy all about it.”

  Laughing, Arabella told her friend everything. An hour and a half later her soul felt cleansed. Sissy had listened to every gruesome, and wonderful, detail of everything that had happened. The casino, Kane, the mysterious mercenary, Jericho, and of course the sex.

  “Tell me it was as good as I want it to be,” Sissy begged.

  “It was even better.”

  “Hot damn! I knew that boy was packing some skills between the sheets.”

  Arabella nodded, thinking her friend was quite right about that.

  “Listen, you’ve been through hell, but you’ll come through it. Just stay strong, take it a day at a time.”

  “He asked me to come to his bedroom tonight.”

  “And you said yes, right?” Sissy asked, sounding like she might hurt Arabella if she didn’t’ give the correct answer.

  “I—well at first I did, but then we had the fight. He wants me to find Vincent and I don’t want to do it.”

  “He has every right. It was his bruid”

  “Hey, I thought you were supposed to be on my side,” Arabella snapped, her humor fleeing.

  “Listen, I think I understand both sides to this. He wants revenge for what they did to his mate. Now that both of the Donato sons are dead though, Vincent won’t stop until Grayson’s dead. You better keep watching your neck too. A man like that, wronged in the way Vincent was, he won’t stop.”

  “So you’re saying I should help Grayson to track Vincent so he can kill him first?”

  Sissy sighed directly. “I know it’s not a great plan but in these kinds of situations no plan is without flaws. People are going to get hurt. One way or another this battle between Grayson and Vincent will have to end.”

  A crushing weight settled atop her like an anvil. She felt as though her heavy body was seeping into the ground. Or maybe that was just her sliding to the floor as her mouth dropped open.

  If she didn’t help Grayson, Vincent could kill him. She’d known the danger all along, had experienced it firsthand. However, she still hadn’t thought of this. Somewhere in her naive mind she’d thought if they just didn’t go after Vincent he’d leave them alone. That Grayson, she, and his family could all be safe and life could go back to some semblance of normal. Now she realized things could never go back to normal. The world was forever changed from the moment Grayson killed Domico Donato and could never be how it was before.

  “Should I go to him?”

  Sissy answered quietly, the first quiet thing she’d said all during their conversation. “I would.”

  “Thanks, Sissy. I love you.”

  “Love you too, girl. Remember, stay strong.”

  Arabella ended the call. Emotions warred within her. Doubt and questions that didn’t have answers muddled with stress.

  But she went to her duffle bag and emptied it onto the bed. All of the meager belongings she’d packed before she left for this journey looked rumpled and unimpressive. Nothing had any real spark of color that caught her eye. Hell, it all looked like dirty laundry from being shoved in her duffle for a week.

  “Okay then,” she muttered to herself, stripping down to nothing. She settled for the white robe that she found in the bathroom.

  She took through the dark halls of Blackmoore Estate. It was quiet, no one to be seen as she skipped across the red running carpet to his room. When she reached it she hesitated, her fist raised in the air to knock. She’d said she wouldn’t come. What if he didn’t want her here?

  She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. There was only one way to find out.

  She turned the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked, then stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind her. Her eyes quickly scanned for any sign of him but found none. The bathroom light was on though and she heard running water. Shoot. She’d caught him in the shower. She was both relieved and disappointed at the discovery.

  A shadow moved across the doorway and then he filled it, looking straight at her. Neither of them said anything. He was still damp from the shower. He’d wrapped a white towel around his waist. Her mouth watered for a taste of him.

  “Can I come in?” she whispered.

  His eyes trailed up and down her body with that brow that was forever furrowed. His face rarely relaxed. Enough time passed that she grew impatient. She headed for him with purposeful strides, almost swaggering. His eyes lit up but still he didn’t move, didn’t say a word to acknowledge whether he wanted her here or not. He wanted her. She knew. Could smell it in his rich scent, could see it in his eyes and the pump of his heartbeat against his chest.

  She pulled at the sash keeping her robe closed. It opened, flapping along her stomach and legs like wings. She stepped into him and he sucked in a hissing breath.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She placed her palms over his chest. His small, flat nipples grazed her hands. “I’ve decided to come to bed with you.”

  “You said no.”

  “Well, now I’m saying yes,” she informed him.

  “Did you change your mind about tracking Vincent, too?”

  She looked away and fought to control her anger. She swore if she never heard that name again, it would be too soon. “I don’t know.”

  That seemed to surprise him. He leaned closer, though he probably wasn’t aware of it. “You were thinking about it,” he said, not a question.

  “Maybe,” she admitted, still unable to look at him.

  “Why?”

  She looked at him finally. “You know why.” Because she loved him.

  His throat moved as he swallowed hard. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bathroom.
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  She saw that he hadn’t just come from a shower but a bath. His bathtub was one of those oversized, luxurious pieces that could hold three to four people. He dropped the towel and tugged her robe down, then he pulled her into the water with him. Although he didn’t set her in his lap, but on the opposite side of him. This way, she realized, they could look at each other. Almost like they were sitting having dinner together instead of lying in a bathtub.

  When he touched her foot beneath the warm, sudsy water that smelled gently of flowers, she jumped. He wore a scowl as he pulled her foot onto his chest looking at it. She curled her toes to try and hide and he gave her a reprimanding glare. So she relaxed her foot, but it was hard.

  He touched each of her toes and ran his thumb across the pink paint on her toenails. Then he began rubbing the muscles in her foot. Her head fell back as she let him massage her. Her body relaxed and mind turned to melted butter on his touch.

  “You’re really good at that.”

  “I know.”

  She laughed at his confidence. “You already knew that? Who got to discover that special gift?”

  He was quiet for so long she opened her eyes. Fuck. It was Anita. She could see it written clearly in his haunted gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” she said instantly, jerking her foot back.

  As if coming out of a spell, he shook his head, then he grabbed her other foot and preceded to massage that one. “The night I mated with Anita, we bathed in a pool of water. It was not nearly as warm as this, but it was tolerable. I had a duty to perform. I’d just been mated. I had to consummate that bond. My first time.” The muscle over his eye twitched.

  “We were both so nervous. I don’t think either one of us wanted to do it, but it needed to be done. She suggested the bath, so we took off our clothes and climbed in, shivering. That’s when I saw her feet. I remember thinking I liked them. They were dainty and feminine and my mother used to complain about the pain in her feet from working all day. So I picked up her foot and massaged it.”

  “So you scored with a foot massage?” she blurted out. Mortification flamed her cheeks. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to joke about that.”

  Except, he had his head thrown back and was laughing. After he calmed his face looked much more relaxed, the wrinkles around his eyes and the lines on his forehead not as pronounced. A faint smile lingered. “There’s nothing to be sorry about it. I’d much rather remember the good memories with her.”

  “I want to help you, but I want you alive more than that. Can’t you understand why I can’t make that decision?” His hands stilled and he dropped her foot. She instantly missed the connection.

  He stood, sending a rush of water cascading down his lean body. “I think, Arabella, I know what you need.”

  She blinked, confused. “What do I need?”

  He held out his hand. She hesitated before taking it. The second her hand slipped into his though, he tugged her hard then lifted her up into his arms. He stepped out of the tub dripping water and making a mess everywhere.

  She gave him a silly smile. “You’re making a mess.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Like I care about some water.”

  He took her into the bedroom, then tossed her on the bed. Giddy, she laughed as she flew through the air then landed on his bed, bouncing. His gaze turned hungry as it roamed over her naked body, heating her wherever his gaze looked.

  “I want to tell you something,” he said, looking dire.

  She stilled, eyes wide. “What is it?” It couldn’t be anything good.

  Instead of answering her, he climbed slowly up the bed and over her body until his elbows trapped her head and his strong body covered hers. He kissed her cheek, then her ear, and then he whispered softly, turning her world upside down. “I’ve always known you. And you’ve always known me. From the moment we met, we knew we were connected. I knew I’d found you. That’s why, when you said you loved me, I wasn’t surprised. Because, while I’ve never thought of it as love, that’s what’s between us. Maybe it’s something even stronger than that, something bigger. And it’s here between you and me.”

  She held him close. “Yes, yes, it’s true.” She could leap for joy that he knew, that he understood and recognized this thing that had always been between them. He’d explained better than she ever could have.

  “That’s why I need you to track him for me, Arabella. I have to finish this so I can move on, too.”

  Her throat squeezed tight making it hard to breathe. She hadn’t seen that curveball coming. “That’s so unfair,” she whispered, wanting to cry. “Don’t you dare use my feelings as leverage!”

  One hand stroked her hair and he kissed her on the lips. “I’m not, and if that’s what you think I did, that wasn’t my intention. I need your help, Arabella, so we can move on.”

  Bam. He sunk the nail in deep. She gasped and he caught her open mouth in a wicked kiss. She clung to him, kissed him back harder. When he finally lost it, he dragged one of her legs over his arm to spread her open, then he slammed in deep. He fit inside her perfectly, touching every spot like he was meant to.

  The headboard knocked against the wall as his movements increased, pounding her into the mattress. Each thrust sent her closer and closer to paradise. She moaned and whispered in his ear, telling him how wicked he made her feel, how much she loved his cock, until, groaning, he reached between their bodies to flick her sensitive bud and set her off like fireworks. She came on a wondrous cry.

  He slowed things down letting her ride the waves of pleasure coursing through her. Then he licked her nipple laving attention upon it until it puckered. When he sucked her breast into his mouth she felt the sharp edge of his fangs. She gasped and undulated, writhing against his tunneling cock. It felt so good to be filled full of him in every way. Like she was made to do this. She threaded her hands through his hair.

  “Do it,” she said.

  He tugged on her nipple with his lips giving her a grunt in response.

  “Do it,” she said again. “Bite me right there. I want to feel it.”

  The bite came only a moment later. Tingling started around the wound then dissipated throughout her body. He sucked at her and with each pull, her sex clamped down on him making him take her harder until they were both locked in a sensual battle for climax. She came first—on a wordless cry—as he retracted his fangs, kissed her and pressed deep. His shaft pulsed inside her with his release giving her everything.

  “Grayson,” she whispered.

  For a long while they lay there kissing each other, touching each other, and whispering truths long kept secret. He made love to her again, then again, until laughing, she rolled over with a great big yawn. “Enough is enough,” she said.

  He came up behind her, the insatiable vampire, and pulled her close until their bodies aligned perfectly. Only then did he let her sleep.

  But she knew before she even closed her eyes that things just changed once more. How would she be able to tell him no now?

  CHAPTER 33

  Grayson drifted in the hazy fog of sleep. Back and forth floating like a feather caught in the wind. His body was heavy and then he ceased to be aware of anything.

  The dream came in flashes of colors, bursts of indescribable images blinking before him. Then an image settled over his vision focusing in so his brain could interpret it.

  A piano played. The sound wasn’t clear but foggy and old sounding like it played from a phonograph in another room. Black and white the image was. The dream, Grayson, a spectator, watched through his bicolored lenses, stepped into a great big ballroom. Women wore ball gowns with enough material to clothe a family of twelve. Men wore cravats and leather boots that went up to the knee. Couples waltzed to the muted piano music in the four-count waltz rhythm.

  He watched from behind himself as he strolled into the room and stopped. Then it hit him. He knew where he was. Castel Glimmeric, hundreds of years ago. The night of his mating to Anita. His figure moved through the cr
owd of dancers. When he stepped near them, the couple would turn and stare, ceasing their movements altogether, becoming frozen as they stared at him. Their unblinking eyes followed him past stopping dancers. A shadow darted in front of him. He followed it with the curiosity of a hound. Through the crowd it darted but the moment he set to go after the eerie shadow, the dancers closed in on him. Their stomping steps rattled the floor. He took a step back bumping into more bodies. All around them the dancers pushed closer and closer, suffocating him, until he could not move without looking into their faces.

  And in the face before him, he stilled. He felt as though he’d swallowed burning acid as it singed his throat. The face he stared into was himself. The dancing Grayson wore a tuxedo, cravat, cummerbund, and tall leather boots as all the other doll-like figures did. His throat closed up. Something was terribly wrong. He knew it in his gut. The face he stared into was haggard and old looking, eyes dead. They held the glossy, lifeless look of death.

  Still, the piano played in the distance keeping the same song playing over and over. Grayson spun around and came face to face with a woman. She wore one of the oversized ball gowns that required a hooped skirt. It was intricate and spoke of wealth. Through the grayscale of his dream he could see the white paint she wore, the tiny red lips she’d painted on, and the dark hair which piled atop her head in luxurious bundles. The kind of hairstyle that took hours to create.

  The face he looked into was familiar.

  Anita stared back at him. His gut clenched violently. She looked so alive; yet, dead eyes stared back at him.

  The shadow darted out of the corner of his eyes. Suddenly the group closed in on him even more, reaching for him. Grayson knew that he couldn’t let those hands touch him. The hands of himself, the hands of his dead mate. It would kill him, they would make him into one of them if he did. With his heart thundering in his ear, Grayson ducked and lunged his way through the crowd. The shadow lingered at the edge of a hallway at the other end of the room. The music suddenly turned loud. And like a switching being thrown, the color turned on.